we refuse to make any kind of pickle pun here.

Woah! It's been, like, a while since we posted. Unacceptable! We will flog ourselves later. We do kind of have a good reason, though; we've been busy putting together all of the content for the website, which should be up and running at www.gogreenologist.com within the next ten days! Huzzah! That means that pretty soon you'll all be able to sign up for home delivery of farmer's market produce, get deals at local businesses, trade ideas and info with other Greenologists and access all kinds of super recipes from some pretty awesome local chefs. Excitement!

Until then, however, we must blog on. So. Obsession du jour: Grillo's

Pickles. We ate an entire quart container ($8) of these in three days. Solo. Don't judge.

If pickles are a beautiful thing, Grillo's are Brigitte Bardot painting a Tahitian sunset while the Royal Ballet performs Swan Lake on a mountaintop behind her. Or something. They're real good.

What's that you say? It's just a pickle? Pssht. Listen, here. We've eaten a pickle or two (or five thousand) in our day, and these are not your average limp cucumbers swimming in overly salty brine. These pickles are special. We never thought we'd talk about a pickle having a "complex" flavor, but these kind of do. They're perfectly salty and a little sweet (but not too sweet) and they're nice and garlicky (but not too garlicky) and they've got a great little zing that just cries out for a pulled pork sandwich and a Pretty Things St. Botolph's. And they're made with grape leaves, which keep them outrageously crisp. We love Grillo's even more because they're made locally by a guy using his Italian grandfather's 100 year-old recipe (the pickles aren't 100 years old). Also, a friend of ours met the pickle master himself, Travis Grillo, at Whole Foods on Prospect St. the other day and told us he was a really nice guy. Love.

You kind of want a pickle now, huh? Get 'em at:

Dave's Fresh Pasta, Somerville

Pemberton Farms, Cambridge

Brookline Liquor Mart, Allston

Grillo's pickle cart at the Park Street T stop!

Or trek on over to Alibi at the Liberty Hotel and get a spear in your Green Mile Martini. For reals. They're also at Whole Foods, but you know better than to shop at a big chain when you can support your local economy instead, right? We thought so.

Need a new application for your new obsession? Try our favorite: A toasted ciabatta sandwich with Meadow Creek Dairy's uber-stinky Grayson cheese (at S. End Formaggio and the Wine & Cheese Cask) and a few Grillo's pickles sliced and nestled in there. Thanks to Anne Saxelby, of Saxelby Cheesemongers in NYC's Essex Market, for opening our eyes to this perfect, if totally bizarre, marriage. Don't think, just do.

give the gift of goat.

So, a friend of ours just had new baby (as opposed to an old baby...) and while we've been stockpiling locally crafted books and toys in anticipation of this little dude for months, we kind of forgot about his mom, who we've known WAY longer. Whoops. What does someone who's just been through 9 months of what we can only imagine to be beautiful (stressful), magical (exhausting) and so special (kind of scary) want? We're gonna go out on a limb here and say... pampering? Maybe?

Being as it is that she's got her hubby on hand full-time for foot massages and bon-bon fetching for the next few months (right, Dave?), we had to come up with something else. You may or may not have noticed that we spend a lot of time obsessing over farms and local crafts. Sometimes, when the alignment of the stars is just right, these two things combine and we find... A local farm that produces crafts! Hooray!

Enter West Elm Farm, located in Pembroke, MA. A self-described "Micro-Eco Farm," West Elm is a haven for two former city slickers and their flocks of Icelandic sheep, Angora goats, and Pilgrim geese. The folks at West Elm also keep bees, from which they make these beautiful, all-natural, slow-burning candles ($19.95). A little romance for our favorite new mama? You betcha.

By now you might be thinking, "Get to the goats already!" Alright, alright. Everyone loves goats. They're cute, they have great personalities, they're walking disposals and their milk makes some of the best cheese ever. But that's not all! Did you know that goat's milk contains special proteins and triglycerides that are super-moisturizing and soothing? Hmmm... Our skin is so itchy and dry from this gosh-darn New England winter. It'd be awesome if someone put goat milk in our soap, to soothe and heal our little red elbows. Guess what? West Elm Farm makes soaps out of fresh goat's milk from their Angora goats! Look at how pretty they are! Not only that, but they infuse the soaps with lanolin, the oil found in sheep's wool that helps protect the little fuzzy guys from the elements and has been used for thousands of years as a natural moisturizer. That's pretty sweet. Since naturally super-soft skin has pampered written all over it, we got our favorite new mama a gift box of two soaps, one lavender-scented for a little aromatherapeutic sexy, one peppermint for some rejuvenation action ($13.00).

Hope y'all like soap, 'cause this is looking like it'll be our go-to gift for 2010.

we love yourenew.com more than eggs.

Don't look at us like that, eggs. What did you expect? Something better was bound to come along eventually, and just because that something turned out to be YouRenew, a totally awesome website that allows us to trade our old, quasi-functional electronics for cash completely hassle-free, doesn't mean there aren't things we still love about you, too. But, come on. They never asked for anything from us, not once. Not our money, not even our credit card number like those other recycling sites do. And they care about the environment, just like us. They even donate to environmental projects with every transaction. We just feel like we have more in common with them. They're a small business, we're a small business. You understand, right? We know, you've nourished us and made our hair shiny for years, but, well... We like money, ok? There, we said it. Let's still be best friends.

book review: the locavore way, by amy cotler

As mentioned in an earlier post, author and local food maven Amy Cotler got in touch with us via the magic of Twitter a few weeks ago about her new book, The Locavore Way: Discover and Enjoy the Pleasures of Locally Grown Food. This lady has some serious food cred, having worn the hat of chef, caterer, cooking instructor, cookbook author (she even contributed to the revised Joy of Cooking!) and founding director of the local food advocacy group Berkshire Grown, so you can imagine how thrilled we were when the adorably illustrated (yes, that's a cow in the bag on the cover) little manual showed up in our mailbox this week. Well, we're happy to say that after having spent the past few days getting cozy with Cotler's wisdom and advice, we're even more thrilled to have The Locavore Way as a permanent fixture on our "all things food" shelf. Let's get to it:

The book begins at the beginning (always a good sign), by answering that very popular question at the forefront of any locavore discussion: Why bother? Eating locally can seem like a hassle, a Sisyphean task or something only Vermonters can realistically enjoy, and Cotler knows it. She assumes nothing and doles out a pretty impenetrable argument for the cause, giving equal treatment to the economic, health and community benefits eating locally can afford her readers. We like where this is going.

Once she's got the "Why?" out of the way, Cotler wastes no time getting right to the "How" -- more specifically, "How the heck am I going to do this?" Here's the thing. What typically ends up turning us off of these kinds of local living manuals is that they tend to be more manifesto than helping hand. That's a bummer. Choosing to live local is a lifestyle change for a lot of folks, and it can be frustrating, confusing and a little alienating at times. People don't need someone telling them that if they buy an apple in March, they're part of the problem. Cotler gets that, and The Locavore Way never approaches the kind of foodie-righteousness that so frequently fills the pages of other local food guides. In fact, the three sentiments that seem to come up most frequently in Cotler's book are more akin to what our moms probably told us on our very first day of school:

1. Don't be nervous: This stuff is easier than you think.

2. Ask questions: There's no such thing as a stupid one.

3. Have fun.

There's a little bit of "It's OK to make mistakes, I'll still love you," in there, too, particularly when Cotler grants her readers the understanding that they probably won't be able to stop shopping at larger markets completely and gives them fifteen pages of the tools and advice they need (talk to the food buyer, read labels like a maniac, don't assume and if at first you can't find local milk, look, look again) to do the best they can as "smart shoppers" outside the realm of farmer's markets and CSA's.

Speaking of Community-Supported Agriculture, The Locavore Way has the skinny on that whole chestnut as well and deftly answers all the big CSA questions: What is it? Is it for me? How do I find one? Now that I have a share, what am I supposed to do with all this kale? Farmer's markets and buying clubs get equally explanatory treatment, and these sections are filled with great anecdotes from farms and locavores alike, factoids that remind you why you care (20% of industrial food dollars go to farmers; 80% to... not farmers), and the kind of checklists and timelines us scatterbrained urban folk need to keep us on tra -- wait, is that Ben Affleck?

False alarm. Anyway, once all that shopping's done and you've got a full pantry, it's time to eat. This is our favorite part, and something a lot of local food advocates forget -- that supporting local agriculture is important, of course, but people aren't going to do it unless it tastes good. We're human beings and we're a little tied up in that whole sensory experience thing. The Locavore Way comes through here as well and flaunts its prowess as a champion of taste buds everywhere. Need a flexible recipe to get you through the root veggie months? Found it. What else could you possibly do with cabbage? Page 152. Not really sure how to cook a Jerusalem artichoke? No problem. There are pickling tips, canning tips, drying tips, roasting tips and cold storage tips to help you get the most out of your harvest. An entire section devoted to herbs ensures your grass-fed beef (page 171!) will be maxed out with flavor. Don't feel like cooking? Turn to the section that gives advice on local eating outside your kitchen and support the restaurants that support your farmers. Want a little wine with your dinner? Yup, you can get tipsy locally, too. We wish there were a few more recipes here, but then again, The Locavore Way isn't a cookbook (unlike Cotler's previous publications, which can be found on her website).

Should you end up falling in love with the land, farms and food around you (like we have) and decide you want to spread the word (you will), The Locavore Way has you covered with an easy-to-follow overview of all the different ways in which you can either fund, volunteer for, or start a community organization to support your local food movement. Once again, we love the decidedly non-preachy vibe of this section, which basically encourages readers to do what they can, when they can. There's great info here for families and lone rangers (like yours truly) alike, and should you stumble upon some agri-jargon you're unfamiliar with in the cabbage patch of your community garden (monoculture is what, now?) you can flip to the book's glossary, which offers up quick definitions of all that farm-speak. You'll be throwing around terms like "foodshed" and "terrior" at your local Slow Food dinner in no time, glass of biodynamic wine in hand.

So. Do we have any qualms with Cotler's most recent foray into local learning? Honestly, not really. The Locavore Way is comprehensive, phenomenally organized, and fun without the fluff. It's an invaluable roadmap to all things local food for starry-eyed newbies and reusable tote-toting veterans alike, and though it's ever-so-slightly focused on the New England food scene, there's more than enough helpful stuff in here to rock any region's world.

Consensus: Ms. Cotler, we're pretty impressed. We might have to invent a Greenologist Woman of the Year award just for you.

we blame the previous administration.

You might be sitting at your computer right now, perusing the Interwebs, shirking your duties, thinking to yourself, "I wonder what food poisoning's like." Excellent question, fellow Greenologist! Having all the answers to all of your questions like we do enables us to tell you: It sucks. It might suck more than anything else in the world, ever. Like, combine getting your heart broken for the first time with hearing that Bush was re-elected for a second term and finding out your dog doesn't like you that much. Food poisoning is worse. Just trust us on this one.

Anyway, food poisoning sucks so much that we've been unable to post here or anywhere else for a few days. Sorry! We still love you! We'll be back in full force tomorrow with a review of Amy Cotler's book, The Locavore Way: Discover and Enjoy the Pleasures of Locally Grown Food, which we enjoyed immensely.

Until then, we leave you with this, which was our sole source of pleasure over the past 36 hours. Enjoy.

will work for local crafts.

Wow. We spent waayyy too much money on Saturday. Our usual penchant for sniffing out the best deals, the pride we take in finding something for almost nothing (preferably nothing), was overtaken by the bevy of crazy-awesome crafts and fashions we found at the SoWa Cabin Fever Gift Fair this weekend. We'll be on a steady diet of peanut butter sandwiches until our finances can shake it off and pay our rent.

But it's ok! We snagged some really sweet stuff, we supported local artisans, and in every case, we did it sustainably. Check it out:

Eco-Metalsmith Jesse Danger:

So, aside from the fact that this guy has the coolest name EVER (Danger's only our middle name), his gorgeous line of jewelry -- made entirely from recycled metals and conflict-free gemstones -- is the epitome of grace and simplicity. It's nature meets urban minimalism, and it reminds us that sustainable can be chic, and recycled doesn't have to mean wearing manipulated utensils as rings. Speaking of rings, we were particularly in love with two of his creations: the Metropolis ring ($175), whose twin gemstones mimic the city skyline, and the ethereal Dragonfly Wing ring ($495), which we'll happily accept as a Valentine's Day gift in place of -- or in addition to -- the previously mentioned "Let's Make Out" pillow. We're a size 4.5. Thanks.

"Neckties aren't just for dudes anymore:"

We think it's safe to say that artist Nicole Deponte pretty much brought the funk this weekend. Her "upcycled" fabric inventions, created from remnant ties, fringe, buttons, sequins, and vintage scarves, rocked our socks. You might be thinking, "Outmoded neckties? Like my dad/husband/weird uncle wears? Say what?" Ladies, we hear you. Suspend your skepticism and fashion phobias for just one minute while you try one of Nicole's creations on. It's OK that you don't ooze cool; we're here to hold your hand whilst you delve into something different... See? It's actually outrageously versatile! And not just for the painfully hip! We see our NH-bound mother snagging a piece that hints at its past as a nautical-themed knockoff Hermes, and we're going to rock a multi-layered, earth-toned piece in lieu of a bulky scarf this spring when our t-shirts and jeans beg for a little easy accessorizing. We know, we can't believe we can pull something like this off, either! This is the part where you go tell all your friends and pretend you discovered this all on your own through the power of the Internet and Nicole's Etsy page.

Guys like to look good, too:

Sorry, guys. You tend to get short shrift at these craft fair things, so full they are with jewelry, feminist magnets, jewelry, feminist stationery, jewelry, and jewelry. Nicole Keane feels your pain. She didn't create F. Rock sustainable carryalls ($235-$450) for that reason alone, but her booth, full of decidedly manly courier bags made from 100% reclaimed leather and menswear factory scraps, was a haven for our very patient male companion as we tried on about 45 different pairs of earrings. Her custom-made bags, fit to carry laptops, graduate theses, and more diapers than you ever thought could possibly be necessary, are unique, handsome (just like you!), and well-crafted enough to survive Boston winters, riding the MBTA, and whatever destructive force a toddler might unleash. Although, we know all you really care about is whether there's a pocket big enough for The Watchmen. There is.

egg hunt.

Ok, Twitter. Now you're just showing off.

We'd hit something of a roadblock with the post we were intending to... post... this morning. When coffee failed to fix the problem, we knew we were in trouble. And so we turned to our old standby: procrastination. No sooner did we log on to @gogreenologist than we heard from @onefoodguy, asking about where to get farm-fresh eggs. #Eureka!

Oh, eggs. We love eggs. They're full of protein and OMEGA-3s, they can be sweet or savory, hard or soft, scrambled or un-scrambled, carried on spoons, and hidden in the out-of-doors. And wow, are they cheap.

There are times at which we do not love eggs, however; this mostly has to do with the way the egg is introduced to the world. Is it laid, free of hormones, chemicals and antibiotics, in a town we have heard of, where its mother is allowed to peck and scratch and bob her head in the open air as free as her little chicken heart desires? Or is it pumped full of junk we can't pronounce on a commercial farm somewhere in Indiana and laid in a giant warehouse by a hen who's never seen the light of day? There's a big difference, and we can taste it.

The point is, local is better for more reasons than just the carbon emissions created in the shipping of goods. Local eggs, for example, from the small-production dairy farms around Massachusetts, are more likely to be hormone/antibiotic-free and laid from hens who are actually allowed to free range (none of that "open-cage" stuff). Why do we care about this? Aside from the fact that we figure we're exposed to more chemicals than we'd like just by breathing and don't think we need any more from our food, local eggs, in our experience, actually taste better. For reals, yo. Flipping delicious. They're creamier, more flavorful, and the yolks (we swear) are the yellowest yellow we have ever seen. (Probably because free-range chickens eat leafy greens, which help turn their yolks yellow. How do commercial farmers get yellow yolks? They put dye in the chicken feed. Yup.)

Where can you get your hands on some local eggs? Lots of places. If you want to stick to the mean streets of Boston (or Cambridge or Somerville), we've listed the places we've found the little local ovums below. If you feel like daytrippin' for your dairy (do it, do it!) check out FarmFresh.org (a Rhode Island-based site, but works for MA, too), and search their database for a farm to visit and buy from directly.

One final thing we love about eggs: shells. Go here to see all the glorious ways in which you can harness the power of what you probably thought was nothing more than a fragile little membrane. Think again!

Find local eggs at these locally owned businesses:

Boston:

Savenor's Market
Lionette's Market
Foodie's Urban Market
South End Formaggio

Cambridge:

Savenor's Market
Formaggio Kitchen
Harvest Co-op
Sofra Bakery

Somerville:

Kickass Cupcakes
Sherman Market
Dave's Fresh Pasta

Of course, it's always a good idea to call before you go; inventory at a lot of these places is small, just like the farms they source. Happy hunting, folks.

please buy this for us.

Our Valentine's Days have a history of being tragic. These 100% post consumer recycled pillows from Alexandra Ferguson's Etsy shop will help soften the blows we've been conditioned to associate with February 14th.

You could just get one for your own significant other, but then you'd feel guilty for leaving us high and dry on a very emotional day, wouldn't you?

Thanking you in advance,

Lauren

waste not.

Happy February 4th! What's happy about it, you ask? We'll tell you! We just got rid of a bunch of closet-dwelling junk that was making us seriously claustrophobic. Old toasters, twin bedding, bio books and reams of hot pink paper begone! How did we do it, you ask? Did we pay one of those junk removal companies to come pick it all up and do whatever it is they do (what DO they do with that stuff?) with it? Pssht. No, ma'am. You underestimate our capacity for thrift. We used Freecycle.org's Cambridge-based Yahoo!Group page to find people who actually wanted our stuff and were willing to come get it from us. We traded one guy for a spiffy colander he was unloading. Huzzah! Why didn't WE think of this?

Using Freecycle was easy and rewarding. We signed in with our own Yahoo! account info (though not all Freecycle groups are hosted by Yahoo!Groups), we posted our stuff, and a few days later, we can see the floor of our closet again. Most importantly, though, using Freecycle helps keep stuff out of landfills. Recently posted (and immediately taken... you gots to be fast): a bag of pig's ears, a Brita water filter, a bag of beads and a green velvet couch. Nice.

We see that box of stuff in its original packaging lurking beneath your bed. You're never going to use any of it. Ever. For serious. We know, we know; you're waiting to have a yard sale! Please. You've been saying that for two years now. And even if you did get it together enough to have one, how much do you think you're going to get for a sleeve of Betty Boop Titleists? Just go to Freecycle.org, enter your location, post your junk, and you're clutter-free, kid. Or, you could end up living like this. Just sayin'.

help the helpers.

Idealist.org, one of the forerunners in the race against social apathy, needs our donations. For the past ten years, Idealist has worked hard to do the improbable by connecting non-profits from all over the planet with donors, resources, and each other.

You might have noticed that the economy's been slacking off a bit lately. Well, it's hitting idealist as hard as anyone else. Maybe even harder. Big or small, your dollars will allow them to keep doing what they do best: ensuring that all people can lead free and dignified lives.

Greenologist made a donation. Click here to follow suit.

twitter is kind of awesome.

So. Twitter. We must confess, we kind of hated you for a period of time, in the same way we kind of hated the cool chicks in middle school. You were all up in everyone's business, gossiping about everyone's dinners, the interiors of their refrigerators, whether farms were REALLY organic or just low-spray, and how the cheese cart at Troquet is "so totally not the best in Boston." We felt out of the loop (and kind of chubby). And what was the story with all those pound signs flying around? #nickcarter? #noonprop8? #munchkins? Who accidentally hits the # sign that often? We were confused and generally bothered.

But recently, we've been making a few more friends on this here Twitter. We get the whole hash mark thing now (#eureka!), and we're feeling a little better about ourselves. We heard from the Green Mountain Farm to School project, a Vermont-based group that brings local, healthy produce and educational programs to fifteen schools in the Northeast Kingdom. Not only are their kids benefitting from "eating the rainbow" and learning about the farms supplying their lunches, they're little budding foodie poets: "Crunchy like a bunny eats, crunchy like a horse eats, crunchy like we eat, crunchy is so yummy!" Love.

We also heard from Amy Cotler, whose new book, The Locavore Way: Discover and Enjoy the Pleasures of Locally Grown Food, looks like it's pretty much the awesomest. (We know it's not a word. We don't care.) We're excited to read a copy and let all of you Greenologist folks know how you might use it as a tool for living small.

And then there was this from @eatboston. All we'll say is that we always thought it would be great if food and fashion (our two favorite things) could be combined some way, somehow. It would be creative! It would be edible! It would be a nexus of delicious fierceness! Now? Maybe not so much.

Yup. It's official. We love Twitter. We love the kids in Vermont, we love finding new books, and even though it grosses us out a little, we kind of love meat hats. Goodbye, Luddites. Hello, @newluddite.

whatever happened to the green bean?

Hi, folks.

Some of you might recall having a conversation with a wee lady in Spring of 2009 about a totally awesome business that she was starting. It was home delivery of farmer's market produce! It was affordable! It was sustainable! It was awesome! It was the Green Bean. "Wait a minute," you might be thinking to yourself at this very moment. "Whatever happened to the Green Bean? They kind of just fell off the face of the earth." Sad, but true.

Well, folks, it turns out that the Green Bean's inherent awesomeness made a certain supermarket conglomerate a little nervous. Said conglomerate, being emotionally blocked and a poor communicator, sent the Green Bean a pretty nasty letter that more or less put the kibosh on all the awesomeness. "But green beans and pea pods aren't even the same thing!" we said. "Scary legal stuff! Really scary financial stuff! More scary legal stuff!" they replied. And so the Green Bean was put back on the bench before it even got the chance to play. Lame.

We were so frustrated, we considered quitting the whole game and moving to France, just to get out from under Corporate America's thumb for a while. But our friends and family said, "Are you crazy?! You can't give up! That's what this whole thing is about!" And then we visited some more farms and talked to some more farmers. And then we got back from France and remembered how much we like it here. And then we saw Food, Inc. And then it was on, baby.

So now we're back, and we're doing it for the locals. But not just the local farms. This time, we're doing it for the whole community. We're bringing you locally-farmed meats and produce. We're helping you shop at local businesses more often and more effectively. We're supplying you with the tools and recipes you need to make living and eating locally easy and awesome. We're constantly bringing you new tips and ideas about ways to green your life and save money, all while supporting the community and economy around you.

So. The Green Bean is gone, but Greenologist is here. We're crazy excited, and we hope you are, too. This blog will keep you updated with information about our services, website (currently being built by the wonderful folks at MBATeam and up at the end of this month), and community members who are helping us turn Greenologist into a reality, so be sure to check back with us regularly. In the meantime, follow us on Twitter at @gogreenologist, or on facebook.

Many thanks, and we'll be seeing you.

Lauren